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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23958040">Scent Of Tasteful Truths</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosivChrisma/pseuds/JosivChrisma'>JosivChrisma</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aphrodisiacs, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Minor Ciri/Geralt, POV First Person, Truth Serum, non-con-ish, trissefer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:33:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23958040</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosivChrisma/pseuds/JosivChrisma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Two witchers, two sorceresses and a peculiar bottle of wine.<br/>A blessing or a recipe for disaster?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Minigame: Round 1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Scent Of Tasteful Truths</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts">thedevilchicken</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dear recipient,</p><p>Due to pandemic woes I'm a little late to the party. Just know I haven't forgotten your gift and I appreciate your patience. </p><p>Enjoy the fic :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The air was different in Touissant, even now as embers of a burning sun descends to the west. Ambrosial notes of grapes, subtleties of heated soil and fresh pendulous olives ripe for the picking. A welcome change for a witcher who has spent the last century breathing blood and chaos.</p><p>Geralt takes this serenity as a moment of respite, along with Ciri. Naturally, at times yearning for the weight of silver swords in their hands.</p><p> <br/>Ciri</p><p>In life, paths once shared with others tend to diverge, and as much as I love Geralt, my thoughts never strayed too far from Mother and Triss. My plan to reunite them could either be a blessing or a recipe for disaster.</p><p>Triss is punctual and arrives on horseback. Kind eyes, shades lighter than my own, framed by fiery hair flowing towards an enviable waist, her cheeks kissed by the evening sun. She greets me with a wholesome embrace, only releasing to take in the young woman I’ve become. ‘Look at you,’ she marvels. ‘I’ve always known you’d become a devastating witcheress.’ There is pride in her velvet voice, just as smooth as I remembered. <br/>‘Wow, Touissant suits you more than it suits me,’ I tell her.<br/>‘I’m surprised to see you off the path, not out there drenching your sword.’<br/>‘Just taking in some momentary bliss before Geralt and I face the world again. Having you here means everything.’<br/>‘Anything for you, Ciri,’ she murmurs, leaning in to kiss my forehead. I lead her to our home where Geralt hovers awkwardly by the entrance, his stoic amber-slitted eyes stacked above a strained mouth. They acknowledge each other briefly, and Triss makes herself at home while I retrieve refreshments from the kitchen. Not long after I hear a cry of glee from upstairs and judging by the cooing noises, she’s found the portrait of me in that horrid pink dress.<br/>In the middle of our dining table sits a large circular platter spilling over with food and bottles of wine I selected from our cellar. <br/>No one notices I’ve set the table for four people.<br/> <br/>As expected, Mother arrives shortly after sundown, fashionably late in her dark onyx attire, even if she’s travelling through multiple portals. I hear a sequenced knock at the door, and she leaps into my open arms. ‘My darling, Ciri!’ She cries. I feel the tension in her arms once she discovers my ruse. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ She blatantly asks. <br/>‘Umm—surprise, Mother.’ I wince, pursing my lips into a nervous line, as she narrows her vivid eyes past my shoulder.<br/>‘At least you have my cunning mind, that I’m proud of,’ she muses, tilting my chin with a gloved finger. <br/>‘Let’s just be civil and enjoy the night, shall we?’ I insist.<br/>Mother’s hands find my face; the leather is cool on my rosy cheeks, there she lays careful kisses adoringly. ‘As you wish, darling. But only because I’m delighted to see you and Triss,’ she declares, her voice laced with bittersweet malice. <br/>I’ve missed her, dearly.<br/> <br/>Geralt shrinks in his chair when Mother glides past him, gripping the bulge of his shoulder. Words of wit fill his burning hears, it’s barely audible, and yet their faces speak much louder. <br/>Triss looks engrossed, indulging in candied walnuts and petit basque, rising to wrap her arms around Mother, who accepts their proximity with grace.<br/>Geralt’s amber eyes find mine. ‘You could’ve warned me, kid,’ he moans flatly. <br/>‘Where’s the thrill in that? You’ll survive, you always do,’ I assure him. A deep grumble rattles his throat in protest. <br/>For years I’ve witnessed this turbulent love triangle between them. Vesemir once said, ‘a heart that festers with bitterness, equals a slow, excruciating death.’ Not on my watch.<br/>‘Wine, anyone?’ I announce. <br/>Anyone would think they were dying of thirst.</p><p> <br/>Geralt</p><p>Well—fuck. That explains Ciri’s repeated absences from the estate over the past month. All this time, I thought she had succumbed to her itchy feet. I never did mention how things ended with Yen and Triss. Splayed out on a bed at the inn, left to my own unreachable devices after being seduced into thinking I could have them both—not my finest hour.<br/>As advised by the masses, ‘best to avoid a sorceresses bad side.’ <br/>Not one mentioned how difficult it would be. <br/> <br/>Triss still looks the same, but more content. The sunset catches the redness in her hair, as if she were on fire. I’m surprised she even acknowledges me, but then again she’s not Yen. <br/>‘Geralt, I was beginning to wonder where you ended up,’ she says, standing there with a hand on her hip. <br/>‘Hmm—worked out well for me in the end. I bet you never pictured me owning a vineyard.’<br/>‘This is a far cry from Kaer Morhen,’ she states, taking in the sprawling Corvo Bianco estate. ‘At least we know where I’ll be receiving my free supply of sepremento.’ <br/>Sorceresses. Gotta love them. <br/>It’s a shame really, watching her walk away with her chin held high.<br/>A shame that I won’t be dying with that lovely ass in my hand. <br/> <br/>Triss, I could handle, but together with Yen in one room? Deathly combination.<br/>The moment Yen walks through the door, my stomach churns. <br/>She slinks past me, talons clawing my tense shoulder. ‘Retirement suits you, Geralt,’ she chides, her tone low and dangerous. She sends a chilling sensation down my arm, like a shard of ice is impaling me.<br/>‘Delighted to see you too, Yen,’ I tell her tepidly, hissing through my teeth.<br/>‘Just be grateful I’m only here for Ciri’s sake. Unless, you’ve neglected the thought of our rendezvous at the inn?’ She reminds me fondly—the scent of her perfume, a poison seething with vivid memories.<br/>‘How could I forget?’ I grin and bear it, taunting her with crude images only she can see. <br/>That should sate her prying mind, for now.<br/> <br/>Ciri slices the tension with a butter knife by offering everyone wine.<br/>‘We have anything stronger?’ I ask her, knowing it’s not enough for me to drown in.<br/>‘Sorry—we’re low on white gull. I thought we could try something different,’ she implies, holding the bottle to the candlelight. That thing’s a relic. ‘White crow, elite reserve. Tasteful truths of Fig and Watermelon,’ she translates, tracing the intricate etchings of elder speech with her finger. <br/>The ladies are sold. I settle for sepremento. <br/> </p><p>Yennefer</p><p>Fig and Watermelon? I must say, not my usual preference but I’m willing to expand the palette, if it pleases my daughter—anything to repel Geralt’s prudish adolescence too. Ciri pours the translucent wine into our chalices. It has an opal sheen. A refreshing scent hits me first scent, sits well on my tongue, lingering and intriguing. It’s no castel de neuf, but the mystery thrills my taste buds nonetheless.<br/> <br/>My my-Ciri has grown, her cherubic features now more defined. The scar she wears proudly, slowly fading. She’s flourishing beyond measure.<br/>‘My dear, you’re looking well-rested. Are we celebrating your decision to hang your sword on that wall for good?’ I ask her prudently as she pours wine into Triss’s chalice.                            ‘Mother, I’ve barely begun my career,’ she says, shaking her head of ashen hair. ‘You shouldn’t worry so much.’ <br/>‘Perhaps something with less occupational hazards then?’ I suggest. She titters this time, her smile stretching to the corners of striking eyes, surrounded by a light layer of coal. <br/>‘I thrive on being a witcher, and as long as monsters roam this earth, I’ll be there to slay them,’ she implies. <br/>This, I know too well.<br/>‘Someday, you’ll dote over my grandchild and cite a worrying mother’s lament.’<br/>‘Sheesh—one thing at a time, Mother. Monsters first, children—much later.’ Her face softens in the candlelight.<br/>The swallow is spreading her wings, and she fears nothing. That’s what scares me the most. <br/>Brave, beautiful and utterly stubborn. <br/>Oh—the sentimentality of it all.<br/>‘I swear you’ll be the death of me, child.’ <br/> <br/>It seems Triss, and I have similar cravings tonight, reaching for the same glossy candied walnut on the platter. Unfortunately we have the same taste in men too, and the evidence sits metres away from us, swigging sepremento.<br/>I let her have the walnut.<br/>‘I trust Kovir is treating you well, Triss?’ I ask her. <br/>I sense relief in her posture, a weight lifted from her shoulders, fascinating what the absent burden of a man can do for a woman.<br/>‘Being an advisor to a king who heeds my guidance leaves little room for complaints. The courts treat me well,’ she tells me, raising her chalice to rose-tinted lips. <br/>‘So they should. In this day and age, any ruler would be lucky to have you.’ She doesn’t bother hiding her bashfulness nor do I bother deflecting it.<br/>‘Be careful, that almost sounded like a compliment,’ she replies, cocking her brow.<br/>‘Hmm—look who’s the lucky one now?’ I grin into my chalice. <br/>Something else dances in those malachite eyes, something I’m curious to unearth.<br/>‘I miss us, Yenna.’<br/>‘You’ve always been the soft one,’ I tell her with coy. I won’t give her the benefit of the doubt. Not yet.<br/>‘Will you ever forgive me?’ She asks, her tone heavy with resentment. <br/>‘Even the deepest wounds heal over time, Triss.’ She seems satisfied with my answer when she presses no further.<br/>A comfortable silence hangs between us, until we reach for the same ruby cherry on the table and her smooth fingers ghost over mine, it’s feather-light but scorching. This time she plucks the cherry nestled there and dangles it above our noses like child’s play. <br/>‘Do you...ever think of me on your travels?’ She asks shamelessly. The peaks of her cheekbones scattered with freckles, look positively disarming. <br/>I throw caution to the wind and wrap my lips around the cherry, releasing it from its stem with a gentle tug. She watches me bite through its flesh and swallow elegantly. <br/>‘More than you’ll ever know,’ I answer truthfully.<br/>I could slap myself. <br/>Triss’s charm must be rubbing off on me.<br/> </p><p>Triss</p><p>Part of me was always aware of this. Yenna can easily breathe life into something and suffocate it all with a flick of her wrist. Free in the way she carries herself, poised and brimming with confidence. There is grace even when she eats a sliver of sun-dried tomato.<br/>Shit—she catches me staring. I expect her sharp wit but instead she pierces me with radiant eyes. There’s a wry smile unfurling on pouted lips, before she clears her throat, forcing me to regain my composure when Ciri returns and pours herself a chalice.</p><p>‘Since your Mother is expecting grandchildren, has anyone managed to steal your heart yet?’ I ask Ciri.<br/>‘Not you too, Triss’ she groans, taking a long sip of her wine. ‘I’ve no time for love, it’s a nuisance. I lust for other things like travelling without distractions,’ Ciri says, picking handfuls of food from the platter. <br/>‘You’re not fooling me, Ciri,’ I tell her lightheartedly. I can see right through her guise, there’s someone, but fear is holding her back. <br/>‘Alright, alright.’ She pauses briefly. ‘There’s a man whom I’ve known for quite some time. Now and then our paths cross and when they do, he offers security and comfort. He’s rare, merciless to his foes, brutally handsome but underneath it all I know he has a heart.’ <br/>Her deep green eyes speckled with sadness, and I reach out to comfort her. Yenna almost jumps from her chair, but one look of reassurance lets her know I’ve got this one.<br/>‘What’s preventing you from being together?’ I ask sincerely.<br/>‘The world...destiny. It’s bullshit really,’ she says, focusing on anything else but mine and Yen’s concerned faces.<br/>‘It’s natural to think the world is always plotting against you. Life is a cruel beast; to tame it, we learn to adapt and survive.’ Looking around the room, I know life has been unfair on all of us, but our resilience and perseverance trumps the cruelty of the beast.<br/>Ciri nods silently, acknowledging my advice. ‘Our union would be taboo,’ she quietly admits. I watch her expression change into one of confusion. ‘Do you mind if I step outside for a moment? I’ll go and fetch more wine from the cellar,’ Ciri says abruptly. Just before I answer, she blinks out the door in a blur.<br/>Something is off. <br/>I stare into my chalice, and epiphany rises to the surface. <br/>Fig and watermelon. <br/>This is no ordinary wine.</p><p> <br/>Geralt</p><p>The night grows older and eerie. Judging by the lack of hostility directed at me, their drinks are working wonders. I curse my hindrance to alcohol, three bottles, and I’m barely tingling. Ciri’s bright emerald eyes linger on mine for a fraction too long. I dismiss it as the wine clouding my perception. <br/>Things are fine until she blinks out the door. <br/>Yennefer and Triss are too absorbed in one another; they barely batt an eyelid.<br/>Probably plotting my demise. <br/>‘What did you two say to her?’ I ask. If looks could kill.<br/>‘Oh—hush, Geralt. A woman should never have to explain herself to a man. Perhaps you should make yourself useful and assist our daughter.’ Yen retorts with assertiveness, her tone is like honey, bitter to the taste.<br/>So much for civility. I bite down on my silver tongue to avoid the wrath of two unpredictable sorceresses.<br/> <br/>A stark moon bathes the valley in light. The moment I breathe fresh air, the world opens itself to me, my sharp senses penetrating the darkness. I follow the trail of disturbed dirt, along with the odd boot print, both bypassing the cellar. I end up halfway through the rows of grapevines when my ears perk at the faint sound of suppressed sobs. <br/>It’s Ciri, cradling her legs, wiping tears with her sleeve. <br/>‘Damn, kid. Looking to kill me a second time? Or is it just the wine kicking your ass?’ I jest. The curl of her mouth somewhat dissolves my worries. I swallow my pride and join her on the ground.<br/>‘You always know how to settle me,’ she simpers. ‘I just needed a moment to think.’ The faintest scent of figs and watermelon lingers when she exhales.<br/>‘Did Yen and Triss tell you something you didn’t want to hear?’ <br/>‘Geralt, I know you’re not with Mother or Triss, and I can live with that.’ <br/>‘Oh...then...did you want to talk this through?’ I ask, not expecting a prompt answer.<br/>‘Desperately,’ she whispers, balling her fists slowly like a plea for help, it’s enough to fracture the vessel in my chest. ‘I’ve always wanted to tell you...’ Her voice trails off into the night, caught in an unfinished lament. Women are cryptic, but I’ve learnt to be patient. ‘When I was much younger, I noticed the changes within my body,’ she tells me, avoiding my eyes. She looks as if she’s battling against an unruly tongue.<br/>‘That’s just nature kicking in. Ah—womanly functions per se,’ I tell her.<br/>I’m shit at this. Surely Triss and Yen have already covered this topic with her?<br/>‘So...it’s natural to have urges?’ She asks, almost breathless, searching my face for answers. <br/>‘Yes—’<br/>‘Urges to fuck my adoptive father?’ The question catches me off guard, and I’m almost winded when she straddles me in the blink of an eye. <br/>‘Ciri—you’re not thinking straight,’ I snap, struggling against the restraints of her powerful thighs.<br/>‘You’ve thought about it, I’ve seen the longing inside you too,’ she purrs. ‘All men seem to think with their—’ She bucks her hips against me. <br/>‘Fuck—’ I curse in protest, my fingers shovelling the dirt in frustration. <br/>‘I’ve always admired your thirst for blood, Geralt. How you would—kill for me.’ <br/>‘You’re crossing a dangerous line here,’ I growl. No use, it falls on deaf ears. <br/>There’s a hunger in her emerald eyes, something wild and wanting. A wolf fixated on her prey. <br/>Ciri’s lithe fingers tear the yoke of my shirt when she presses her lips roughly against mine. Then she pulls away, panting above me. <br/>‘I regret not doing this sooner,’ she utters between staggered breaths of heat. I try to distract myself when her wet tongue traces my lips but my cock throbs at the sensation. <br/>I won’t give in. I won’t.<br/>‘Ciri, we can’t do this, I’m your—’ She cuts me off and punishes me with a gruelling gnaw on my bottom lip, yanking it between her teeth. The taste of blood awakens the primal wolf inside me. I feel it trickling down my chin. My cock responds with fervour when she grinds herself against me, causing unbearable friction.<br/>‘Father? It’s not like we share the same blood,’ she retorts, dragging her tongue firmly against my chin only to thrust it deep inside my mouth. My throat rumbles like thunder. I won’t surrender. <br/>‘Don’t fucking tempt me,’ I warn her for the last time. My hands find her slim waist; it takes every particle of self-control to subdue her without causing too much damage as I force her on to the ground, pinning the weight of her body with ease. She squirms underneath me, excited by the change in dominance. <br/>‘I’ve always wondered how it would feel...’ Her hands unravel my belt faster than I can protest. ‘To have you inside me,’ she whispers. This is excruciating, I’m quaking from the need to release. <br/>I’m bound to Ciri, but not in this way.<br/>‘I won’t do this with you,’ I rebuke her firmly even when urgent fingers begin to stroke the length of my shaft through the fabric of my trousers. Even when I catch the scent of her arousal, pooling between her thighs.<br/>‘Though your cock tells another story.’ She has her mother’s sharp tongue.<br/>The moon above us is full now. <br/>Reminding me that although we’re wolves from the same pack, doesn’t mean we should howl at it together.<br/> </p><p>Yennefer</p><p>‘Shall we smite this beau of hers? Taboo means he’s unworthy.’ I turn to Triss once Geralt makes himself scarce and useful. <br/>‘Yenna’—Her expression is gentle and inviting—'Ciri is more than capable of navigating through this. All she needs is guidance and a push in the right direction.<br/>‘I’ve always admired your optimism,’ I tell her. My worries evaporate when Triss finds my vacant hand and warms the darkest chasms inside me. A strange but pleasant feeling.<br/>‘Do you know what I admire most about you? Your fierce loyalty.’ If this were anyone else, I’d consider this repulsive, but I’m in no position to object, nor fight against Triss’ gentle touch.<br/>‘Is that all? How shallow of you,’ I jest. She hums with amusement, so susceptible to my filterless tongue. In the candlelight, I trace the web of faint scars on her delicate fingers and shudder at the story behind them. <br/>‘I can easily show you my admiration...’ She whispers, leaning closer. ‘If you want this as much as I do.’ <br/>‘Like a moth to a flame,’ I tell her. We’re dangerously close now, the sweetened air we breathe, heady with wine and vibrations of heightened chaos. ‘I’ve never done this with a woman,’ I confess, seeking purchase and latching on to her leather waist belt with my fingers. <br/>‘So the thought has never crossed your mind?’ <br/>‘The only woman to cross my mind in such a way is...’ I pull gently on her belt.<br/>‘I was hoping to be your first,’ she says, moving closer now.<br/>‘Hmm—if only I could say the same for you.’ I don’t intend on hiding my jealousy. Since the night is veering in such a direction, I’ll leave my pages open for her to read. <br/>‘If it’s any consolation, all this time I’ve only ever wanted you.’ Those green eyes seek permission. I seek the taste of her lips on mine. <br/>‘Then prove it to me.’<br/>My fingers find the brim of her collar, and I tug just enough for her lips to melt against my own. The way she kisses is slow and searching, allowing me to explore this new feeling, catching my lips at every tilt, every turn, gentle as to envelop my tongue with an attentive mouth. I let her lead me into the unknown as her hands reach up to cradle my face, steadying me before she smooths her tongue against mine. <br/>This feels so fucking divine. I can’t help but moan into her mouth.<br/>If Triss is the flame, I’m but a fortunate moth burned by her fire.<br/> </p><p><br/>Triss</p><p>Yenna and I shouldn’t be doing this here, but neither of us can summon the strength to stop.<br/>Funny, this is how civil we’ve become. <br/>I encourage her to move closer, and she’s bold enough to seat herself on top of me. I can trace the convoluted designs of lace clinging to her thighs just as much as my lips trace the contours of her clavicle. I wish she wouldn’t stifle the pleasing sounds threatening to escape her lips. It’s all I want to hear. <br/>Yenna’s skin is just as I’d imagined. Supple and radiating with a harmonic blend of lilac and gooseberries. Wistful eyes find mine, staring through waves of raven tresses. My hands are resting within the groove of her slender waist, as her open mouth hovers above mine.<br/>‘I’m more than willing to discover whether you fuck just as beautifully as you kiss.’ There it is, that mouth I adore, with a tongue that’s equally as eloquent as it is brutal.<br/>‘Let me take you to bed then,’ I insist. It’s a rarity to see her smile, even if it is coquettish. <br/>Yenna takes my hand and leads me somewhere more private, despite our sordid behaviour at the table, let alone under Geralt’s roof. She stops in her tracks and gasps, producing a minute giggle. It’s just as amusing as the cause of such a reaction. There in all it’s glory, a portrait of a scantily clad Geralt lounging on the corpse of a griffin. <br/>‘For fuck sakes’—she curses under her breath—‘And Geralt still wonders why he’s alone?’<br/>‘More of a reason to take you right here on his bed,’ I simper into her ear. She shudders against me when I press up behind her. My eager hands find the curve of her hips, and she relaxes into my arms when I kiss her neck delicately.<br/>‘Mmm—at least we’re on the same page here. We are his loss after all,’ she says, tangling her fingers through my hair. A twist of her finger and the door closes behind us. <br/>Although Geralt’s absurd portrait looms in the background, I only focus on the woman in front me as we help one another undress. The plume of iridescent feathers draped around porcelain shoulders shimmering in the candle lights. I release the cord at her chest, and the feathers fall, resting just above the curve of her breasts. <br/>‘Sometimes I wonder why we dress so intricately,’ she utters, removing my belt with deft fingers. The crease of her brow and the way she pouts makes her look more endearing, when she fiddles with the clasps of my vest. ‘Because I know you’re just as breathtaking without your clothes.’<br/>‘You’re beautiful, Yennefer. You’re probably tired of hearing it.’<br/>‘It sounds more meaningful when it falls from your lips,’ she tells me, brushing the slant of my cheek with her fingers. She leans in, taking my lips in hers, more desperate and wanting this time while I focus on removing the barriers between us. I’m sure she slips in a few incantations, because our clothes are slipping off our bodies with such finesse. <br/>We end up on Geralt’s bed; our bodies bathed in an orange glow, she pulls away from our heated kisses, breathless and panting.<br/>‘Have you always been this passionate with lovers?’ She asks. Envy looks adorable on her.<br/>‘What lovers?’ I smile into the crook of her neck, and she hums in satisfaction. <br/>‘A wise answer,’ she replies, laying subtle kisses along my shoulder. <br/>‘I want you to watch me make love to you, Yenna.’ <br/>I render her speechless. I can tell she’s aching to be touched. Just below her obsidian pendant I find a sensitive spot that makes her moan. She looks like a muse, with her dark hair spread across the pillow—a lady in waiting. The scent of her perfume lingers heavy in the air. It’s stronger when I flatten my tongue against her pert breast and smooth over the peaks of sensitive nipples. Her body responds just as I expected, watching her cling to the covers underneath us. <br/>I whisper her name into the silky skin of her abdomen, the smooth planes there constricting with every touch of my lips.<br/>The way she curses, the way my name catches in her throat, it’s all but pure ecstasy to my ears. She guides me back to her mouth, and the pleasure burns between my thighs when she curls her tongue and laps at the pillows of my lips. Steadily my fingertips find the satin of her underwear and the pleasure pooling there—my dampness pressing against her thigh. She spreads herself open for me. I know her patience is waning.<br/>‘I need you—inside me.’ She begs, it’s almost too painful to bear.<br/>The moment I slip into her underwear is the moment she crumbles beneath me. My fingers gliding over glistening wet folds, like a flower in bloom, smothered in morning dew.<br/>‘Yenna...’ I gasp into her pretty mouth. Especially when she holds on to the headboard, seeking support as I show her my admiration. <br/>Yenna is chaos. Pure and unbridled, thrusting against my palm, tantalising her swollen clit. Watching her unravel is enough to make me come, but I cling to sanity and join her in the throes of passion. She watches my fingers disappear inside her, pushing slowly as to draw out her rapturous cries. <br/>‘You feel...so fucking beautiful,’ I tell her. Nothing can compare to this feeling, my fingers surrounded by all of her, responding to every deepened curl. She’s dripping, and so am I. The lace of her stocking soaked in my arousal.<br/>The change in her body, like the swells of the sea, rising and falling, colliding deliciously with me, adjusting to the sensation of more fingers plunging deep inside her. <br/>It was never like this with Geralt. I wonder if she shares my notion.<br/>The way she stares at me, moaning shamelessly into the night, dissolves any traces of doubt. <br/>‘Come for me,’ I encourage her. <br/>‘Come with me,’ she begs one last time. The final push is our ultimate undoing, a beautiful collision, as she latches on to me.<br/>She couldn’t care less if she moans my name out loud while her crux pulses with the beat of my heart.<br/>I’ve never seen her like this, vulnerable, a calmed chaos, cradled and spent in my arms, soothed into steady rhythms of breath. <br/>There’s one thing I know for sure. Fire will always melt ice.<br/>‘Triss, I forgive you,’ she whispers, succumbing to the ebbs of sleep. <br/>I’ve waited so long for those three words.<br/>I extinguish the candles around us, begging the night wasn’t solely the influence of figs and watermelons.<br/> </p><p><br/>Ciri</p><p>I lay in bed, sifting through the images of last night’s dream. I was staring into the amber eyes of a wolf, glowing in the moonlight. Its powerful weight was pinning me to the ground. It snarls at me and yet I’m unafraid. I try to speak, but it barks viciously, baring its teeth, ready to devour me. Still, I reach out and comb my fingers through its raised fur. <br/>Then I realise the wolf fears me.<br/> <br/>It turns out, the fig and watermelon wine was a potent philtre infused with truth serum. Mother believes it had something to do with the elven ruins that once stood here, or perhaps brewed for a reason unknown to us. Either way, it worked in her and Triss’s favour. My only recollection of the night was pouring myself wine, and the vivid dream of the wolf. Geralt said I suffered an adverse reaction to it, found me in the grapevines and carried me to bed while Triss and Mother locked him out of his bedroom. They remember everything. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if he hadn’t settled with sepremento. However, it wasn’t a complete disaster, and everyone managed to survive the night.<br/> <br/>To my surprise, Geralt cooks breakfast and lays out an impressive spread outside. For once, Mother doesn’t complain about the consistency of her eggs. Triss even offers to warm his mug with her fingertips. As dysfunctional as we are, we’re still family. <br/> <br/>In the end, Geralt decides to take up his silver and steel, tying loose ends in Touissant. He encourages me to travel and carve my way forward. We know the path is always calling us, and I never could master the art of staying in one place. Triss returns to Kovir and Mother follows close behind. I always knew they would end up together even if they were too blind to see it before. Geralt takes it on the chin nicely. <br/><br/>Some paths may you lead you back to the ones you love, and others will run its course. <br/>With clarity comes closure, that ours will always be connected.<br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> <br/> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just in case you're wondering why I chose the unusual wine composition.<br/>Figs symbolise truth and enlightenment, watermelons are a form of aphrodisiac.</p><p>Thank you for reading :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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